Reflections of a Captain and White Lady
by snorting chords
Summary: How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when, in your heart, you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep... That have taken hold.
1. Chapter 1 Part 1 The White Lady

_**A/N: I must admit, before you read this story, I have not read the last book. Yes, I meant to, but then... Well I haven't. So although I have read a few sentences here or there of Eowyn and Faramirs meeting and relationship, this will mostly be based on my imagination and the Extended Edition of Return of the King. Some of the lines may be from the book, yet they may be slightly changed. I basically just fell in love with the Eowyn/Faramir coupling after watching the movie and I want more of it! There are not enough Fics, so I am writing one. This starts from the Houses of Healing and I have no idea when it will end. Mayhaps at their wedding, or Aragorns Coronation.**_

_Through the mirror of my mind,  
Through these tears that I'm crying,  
Reflects a hurt I can't control._

**Reflections**

"Eowyn.." The softness of the voice calls me back to this world amongst the living. I almost wish I had not heard it, that I could have been struck down by that monster. The Witch King. The pain of this all was just too much and against the dark of my closed eyes I can see him falling again.

I almost cry out bitterly as I remember what has happened prior to this moment, but the harsh pinpricking of tears keeps me from saying a single word to the man whom had spoken my name. I know who it is, the voice was undeniable and even in this deep grief that has gripped me I cannot resist its call. How could I let go of the one thing I had left? My brother would need me, and I realise that as all the times before, I must be strong and return. For him. But for now, I rest and reflect on the battle that had been won for Gondor.

"**No living man am I! You look upon a woman! Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you." The words that had come from the Shield Maidens mouth surprised even herself as courage had left her. No hope had she, no more. It was snatched from her the moment that she had watched Theoden fall to the ground under the heavy metal of the mace. His skin was bruised, broken and torn, and it brought tears to her already glazed eyes.**

**War was harsh, and not until she saw someone she love perish within it did Eowyn realise what was to be lost. For that is what she was. The words that slipped from her lips as she held the bronzed blade with shaking hands had been filled with courage, yet she felt none. The black armour was like a shadow, something blocking out the sunlight. It chilled her blood, right down to her very soul and she felt on the edge of the brink that had haunted her dreams. **

**'I dreamed I saw a great wave, climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet. A light shone behind me, but I could not turn. I could only stand there, waiting.' **

**But where was the light? Would it come? Eowyn doubted this very much as to her, it seemed light had abandoned the White Lady who had once been filled with so much of it. Where was her hope? Had it departed into the Dimholt Path? Or was it still waiting to show? **

**Eowyn dismissed each and every one of these notions, realising, as she looked into the cold dead eyes of the thing she feared, that she had no hope. All that was, was this thing and her. The battle fell away, leaving only a fragile young maiden with only a sword as her protection against the Witch King of Angmar. The louds calls of War fell upon deaf ears and all Eowyn heard was the deep breathing of the Witch King as he paused in thought of her words. **

**She could see his obvious surprise that this warrior who had dared challenge him was a woman, though Eowyn doubted he had much left within him to feel that much. Her hand began to shake viciously and the metal burnt at her feverish skin.**

**What had happened next passed in a blur and the next thing she knew, she was on her knees with her arm around Theodens broken body. Her other arm hurt, more than she could bear and she wanted to scream out as the black fire burnt her skin, leaving it withered and bruised. Beyond repair surely, but her eyes had caught sight of her uncle again and all pain was forgotten. And now she knelt beside him, tears falling freely from her eyes. **

"**I know your face..." Theoden whispered, voice still strong and noble, even in death. "Eowyn." This brought a pained smile to her face. Her heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was the end for him. She wanted to deny it, yet to deny him this glorious falling wouls surely discredit his wonderful reign. But it still hurt to lose the man who had raised her and shown her love that no-one else had. "My eyes darken."**

**Eowyn shook her head, a calm hand stroking his hair down softly as she countered his comment, though with hollow words. **

"**No.. No, I am going to save you." She promised him, wishing not for his reply for she knew already what it would be. **

"**You already did. Eowyn, my body is broken. You have to let me go. I go to my fathers, in whose mighty company, I shall not now feel ashamed." Theoden drew in a deep breath, not releasing it for a moment as if he was savouring it. His last. "Eowyn.." His chest gave one last heave as Theoden passed from this world and out of Eowyns life, the silver glass rolling back for him and revealing a far green country under a swift sunrise. Free at last. **

**But this did nothing to comfort the woman who held on to the former King as her own body was racked with bitter sobs, nothing able to move her from this despair. The last thing she remembered before feeling cold and dark was the tinge in her arm, though it was numbed by the pain in her heart...**

I open my eyes to look up upon the face of my intended saviour, the shock clear within my hazy blue orbs as it is not Eomers face which I gaze upon, but Aragorns. I search deep within myself to ask the question that has plagued me since the moment the words fell from the rangers mouth. 'It is but a thought and a shadow that you love. I cannot give you what you seek.' I finally, though the decision is not easy to swallow, realise his words are true. He cannot give me what I seek, for everytime I look into those warm eyes of a King, I see only her. The beautiful Undomiel child from Rivendell of what his heart speaks of. He is filled with her and I feel the smallest bit lighter knowing that all that fills my soul is curiousity. I wish to meet the elven woman that has brought joy to him in this dark time. I do not love this man, though my feelings run deeper than respect.

But time to question my hearts desire would come only if healing did. Yes, Aragorn has healed my body, proving his worth as King though I know he will not accept it until Sauron is banished from these lands. But other healing I need, and without it I will die. That is what I hear spoken to Eomer from Aragorn as he thinks I have fallen asleep once more. Slumber does beckon to me, though the words echo in my ears.

"I have healed her body but she will die unless other healing comes, which I cannot give." I wonder, as my eyes close, if this wound will ever be closed...


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2 The Captain

_Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide.  
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time.  
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide.  
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied? _

**Reflections**

"**I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, for her good and my glory." **

These words are all that are repeated in my mind. Would Boromir have said these words, I keep wondering. I wander the empty halls of this house, my steps still weakened from my escapade. My footfalls echo against the cold marble as I continue my pacings, despite the healers best efforts to keep me still. My mind was troubled, by so many things and to sit around and let myself dwell on them would be much worse that walking.

I pause in my ruminations as I look out to the east, and the fire that burns within the barren wastelands. Such a thing has haunted my dreams long before I had come to dwell here. The great eye sees all... Does it see my lack of faith? I wonder, if Sauron has even given any thought to the Captain of Ithilien, granted this title to be rid of by his father. Most likely not. My brother yes, yet me... I am left in the shadow.

I was never loved. I have never felt that ecstactic and completely over whelming sense of clarity and calm. Pain and Sorrow, all at once. Brief glimpses have been granted to me, but I have yet to experience this myself. My mother perhaps, I feel as if she did, yet her face fades in my mind and all I can see is my fathers disappointed eyes. Had I not been a good son? From the first day I can ever remember, I have tried to walk out of the shadow Boromir has set for me. Yet every thing I accomplished, no matter what it was, Boromir could do things so much better.

Some say to me that it is I whom my father held in the highest regard. Yet such a reminder of my mother am I, with my fair face and slender features, that I remind him of the pain he felt when he lost her. To this I laugh, for in my experiences with Denethor, Steward of the Throne, I have come to see that he does not love anyone. Not even Boromir. He loves my brother for what glory he may achieve, not what person accomplished it.

I have lived my life by not looking back. No regrets, they do not work and only end up hurting you. As a Ranger, I never knew when my last breath would come, and my sword would fail to protect me. So I tried to put aside my grief and the burdens I bore, serving my Land as best I could. Yet.. I wonder now. If I had gone in Boromirs place, would this quest have changed?

**'Seek for the Sword that was broken:  
In ****Imladris**** it dwells;  
There shall be counsels taken  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand,  
For ****Isildur****'s Bane shall waken,  
And the ****Halfling**** forth shall stand.'**

Both us siblings had this dream, and the riddle had made sense only to the youngest of us, yet even then it was hazy at best. I spent my time reading such questions and puzzles within the large library, much to the discomfort of my father. He always approved more of Boromirs weaponry interests. But for this once, both Boromir and I were joined in our confusion. Surely this meant the sword of Elendil, broken by his son Isildur all those years ago. Counsels taken I had deducted to mean a meeting of some sort in Imladris. But Isildurs Bane? This part I was clueless to.

I had begged my father to let me go to Imladris, to seek answers to the dream my brother and I had shared. For a brief moment, I thought he would certainly agree with me. He had seemed subdued the last few times I crossed my path with him. His harsh glean, though by no means gone, was... glazed. As if he was troubled by something more than the runnings of Gondor. This would answer our questions, Lord Elrond would surely help.

"**It is not you, Ranger, who shall go to the elf home."** He had replied after a few more moments of contemplation. Though I said nothing I could not believe what I had heard. Boromir himself had not shown much of an interest in this from what I had seen. Why send him when I was more than willing to do this duty for my father and Kingdom? Of course the answer was simple, he thought Boromir to be of greater blood than I ever could be.

I had replied honorably enough, leaving the cold hall before more bitter words found themselves to my lips. And so, Boromir had left, and sought the answers in Imladris yet finding only his doom. I suspect father blamed me for this also, for not persuading him to let me go and lift him of the burden I bore down upon him.

I feel that my fate would have been different, for I would never take the Ring for my own. Though my own flesh and blood could not resist the only thing forged Fair by Sauron, I found myself unwilling to bring it to my father as he would have me do. For this I was hated, until the moment the fires burnt at his body and stripped him of what little dignity Denethor, son of Ecthelion, had left.

I was so fearful when I awoke in the flames, though I could not move from the poison that infected my body. The Black Breath was holding me, pinning me to the pyre and I could not escape. I had not wished my ending this way and Valor answered my prayers in the form of a small Shireling, Peregrin Took and to who, I owe such great thanks.

I subconciously rub my chest where the black arrow had penetrated my flesh. I had thought that to be my end, and it was an end worthy of Faramir son of Denethor. I would have died in battle, defending that which I love the most. Darkness gripped me and I had resigned myself to the death that beckoned.

I was not surprised to find that death seemed a release to me. So long had I lived cold and heartless, without love nor joy, that death warmed me. I just wanted to feel something, whether it be death, fire scolding my body or otherwise. Pain was better than the lack of it, and I opened myself. I prayed to Valor to let me feel at least this. And I did. It hurt, more than I had expected. So much that I wanted the end.

Yet my life, it seemed, was not to completely diminish that day. I had been brought back, and put inside this house to heal. And it had healed, though the wound was still freshly imprinted in my skin and mind. At least, a part of it did. The wound sustained to my body has been healed, and I feel almost as strong as I had done. In a few days, I shall be back to my normal state, and ready to go and fight again.

Yet a part of me died. Not that day when the arrow struck at my flesh, but before that. I always had been dying, slowly washing away under the torrents of pain that flooded me.

As I am lost in my thoughts of pain and despair, a stray tear finds its way from my eyes down my cheek. I wished to feel, yet now I do, I hate it. This world is so harsh, and as I wander the halls of the Houses of Healing, I wonder... What truly keeps me here? What gives me hope? I feel as if I am slipping away from the world, leaving only an empty shell, hollow and broken from the grief of War.

"My Lord?" the woman assigned to look after me calls, forcing me to wipe away the tear and turn to her before she can see the Captain of Ithilien in this broken state.

"Coming." I reply, as the young women gives me a nod, turning to walk back to the room I had come from. I look away from the east and instead turn my attentions to the courtyard. Perhaps tomorrow I will roam out and read under the leafy shade of the trees.

I turn away from the window and make my way back to the room, closing the door on this terrible day of reflecting pain.

_**A/N This chapter is perhaps a little worse than Eowyns was, as I found it hard to completely capture the feelings of Faramir. Everything I write just does not seem to justify the man. Each chapter is going to be a day in the houses of healing, and some of them will be doubled. One for Eowyn and one for Faramir. **_


	3. Chapter 2 Part 1 Wounds unhealed

_These wounds won't seem to heal.  
This pain is just too real.  
There's just too much that time cannot erase._

**Reflections**

No movement sounds around me as I waken from my deep sleep. My dreams, though by no means pleasant, were not haunted either. They were empty but I cannot help but wonder whether that is a better thing than the pain of nightmares. It feels so cold now. My body is not cold, it burns with fever. But my heart... It feels like ice. Can anything ever warm that? I can feel nothing, and I wish to feel, even if that were the pain of death and loss.

"I see you are awake." I hear from my side. Turning my head I find Eomer there, smiling down. I almost forgot about him, too lost in my own depths of hurt and grief. His face brings a smile to my own, even if it a weak shadow of what once was. "I worried that you would not." He places his warm hand over my own cold one, bringing a little more life back into my broken body.

If nothing else, I realize that Eomer would keep me here fighting. He has always been my rock and courage. From the death of our parents to this moment he has watched over me and done his very best to make sure I come to no harm. I have been shielded and placed in a cage to stop the hurt getting in. But in doing this, they have only hurt me more.

I never lived in this cold and harsh world, and now I do, it is killing me. Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. I cannot know what it is to go through this pain, having never felt it before. How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when, in your heart, you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep... That have taken hold.

"Sister?" Eomer asks again, a slight frown on his face. Moments have passed, and I have not said a word. I now take the time to look around my surroundings. They are different from the ones of yesterday. It must be a new day, I estimate, for the sun is higher in the sky than when I first woke within Gondors Healing Houses. I am now in a large yet warm room, sunlight flooding through the window. The bed I am in is spacious and comfortable, providing support for my aching bones and weary body.

A young woman walks through the open door, holding a glass of water in her hands. "You are awake I see." she smiles, her blue eyes glistening with worry as she hands me the glass. I nod and take a sip, placing the glass on the side next to me. Eomer moves to help me sit, and I welcome his help. "I will take my leave." the young girl says, nodding her head to us both before leaving the room. I watch her leave with slight curiosity, for there was worry in her eyes when she inquired about me. Why would this person whose name I did not even know worry for me? Why would anyone?

"Eowyn?" Eomer repeats, worried that no words have come from me. I have never been one for talking. I was always quiet though I do make my views known. If there is something important, I will say it but apart from that I am usually silent. Except with Eomer. He has always been able to bring a smile to my face, always been able to make me say what is on my mind.

But that has changed. This war has hardened me, left me cold and alone, no matter what I am told. The love for Eomer is still there, yet... It is not enough.

"Yes brother?" I say, forcing the smallest of smiles to grace my face. For his sake, if nothing else, I will try and become the woman he knows. He is King now, and will need me to support him. I will have to be his rock, give him courage and love until he finds his own. I try to take heart in this, and remind myself that there is a purpose to me still being here.

But how long will I be needed? Eomer is King and a fine man. Someday he will have his own family and another woman will be able to give him all that I do, and more. Then what will become of The White Lady? Will she stay where she is not needed, hanging on to the threads of an old life? Wither away and fade into nothing? Would this be my fate, after all that has happened? I hope not, yet I cannot help but think that it will be.

"I am glad that you are well." Eomer whispers softly, and I can see the pain in his eyes at the thought that I might not have been. That I may not be. "I have been worrying for you."

"Worry not Eomer." I reply, placing my hand over his and smiling gently. "I am here, and I am well." But we both know this isn't true. War has broken me, and no lie can hide that from my eyes. They are dull, I saw it in the surface of the water I was given to drink. I can feel it in my bones, through every fibre of my skin. I am lying when I say I am here, for only half of me is. Where is the other half? Even I do not know. Was it lost at war, or was it ever there?

"Thank Valor for that." Eomer says, reaching over to hug me tightly.

"Yes… Thank Valor." I murmur in half agreement, closing my eyes as I return the embrace.

* * *

A man came to draw Eomer away, to speak of some pressing urgencies that the Lord of Gondor finds necessary to discuss now. He was reluctant to go, but I urged him to. I could see that it was not just because of his worry for me that kept him here. He is afraid, that he will fail as King and not do as well as Theoden.

How many times does he have to be reminded of his worth? Why can he not see what is so plain to everyone else around him? Just as with Aragorn, Eomer cannot see that it does not take clever and noble words to make a King, merely actions. And their actions have proved that they are great Kings of their age. I am so proud of what Eomer has achieved, even in this dulled state.

But now he is gone, and I am alone again. I find it less painful than I thought. I cannot help but think that it is best for me, and for everyone this way. I am not good company at the moment, and I do not wish to make people suffer my grief and sorrow. They should not have to feel pity for me every time they see how broken I am, and I do not want it.

This bed… This rest… I hate it. It makes me feel weak, and I have fought so hard not to. I hate feeling so helpless. It is killing me, that I cannot mend myself and fight still. I am sure there is to be more fighting; I know it deep within myself. Perhaps that is why Eomer is so reluctant to accept Kingship, the thought he might fail as leader in the last battle.

My thoughts are cut off, as a shiver passes down my spine. I feel… strange, different somehow. A frown crosses my face as I turn my head to the door, thinking someone to be there. But there is no one and the feeling passes. I shrug it off, and turn back to the window, drifting once more into a sleep filled with pain and sorrow…


End file.
